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chibifukurouTitle: Sherlock and the Chocolate Factory
Author: chibifukurou
Artist: chosenfire28
Fandoms: Sherlock/Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 15,000
Content Warnings: Mentions of Past Character Death
Authors Notes: A big thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aur_in_hue for agreeing to beta my story. I hope your computer gets fixed and I'm sorry we weren't able to finish working on this fic together. All mistakes are my own
Part 3
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Sherlock’s face when he first caught sight of the factory was a sight to behold. On anybody else it would have been a sign of slight unease. For him it was a sign of drop-jawed shock.
I stifled a laugh, not wanting him to run off in a huff, and went to get our luggage out of the trunk.
The gate swung open with a loud creak.
Tossing my messenger bag over my shoulder and settling Sherlock’s bag in the crook of my elbow, I grabbed him by the arm and guided him into the Factory’s courtyard.
The gate swung shut behind us. Sherlock turned to look over his shoulder at it, probably trying to figure out how it had done that.
I wasn’t in a hurry to explain it. I doubted that he’d believe in sentinel Factory’s. Hopefully she’d be able to convince him with her own unique intelligence. “Come on Sherlock, I want you to meet Grandpa Willy.”
The Factory’s door popped open and Willy sprung out, pulling me into a tight hug. Then he grabbed Sherlock in a tight hug. This time Sherlock was shocked enough to let his jaw drop.
I covered my mouth with a hand, and edged around them to enter the factory. The door clanged shut and I was finally able to laugh myself silly. Sherlock's face was just too amusing.
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Sherlock settled into the Factory, surprisingly easily. Then again, he didn’t exactly act like an adult and he seemed to understand whatever strange logic ruled Willy's actions.
The Oompas Loompas were particularly pleased with him and as often as I managed to find him, I found them as well.
In all honesty I couldn’t have said if I’d ever seen Sherlock happier than he was in the factory. Far from being bored by being forced to stay in the same place day after day, he seemed to thrive.
Often, I found myself wondering if the factory was playing some roll in his new contentment. If she could make people miserable enough to leave then it probably wouldn’t be hard to make them want to stay.
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One day, once I had checked twice to make sure that Sherlock was busy working on a new, working cell phone molded chocolate, I snuck down into the central processing room, where the Factory’s heart dwelled.
Despite living here for two years when Id’ been younger, I ‘d only been to the heart room twice and I hadn’t ever planned on repeating the experience. It was uncomfortable for me looking on something so vast.
Wonka, and maybe Sherlock might be able to look at the room built of spun sugar mirrors and licorice wires and see something great and wonderful, but I could only see the unknowable and feel her mind pounding against mine. I was an ordinary man after all, the only things that me apart were my experiences, but as a woman and as a teenager growing up in the chocolate factory.
Neither of those experiences had been able to prepare me for a direct connection to Her. I couldn’t turn back though, not when Sherlock might be on the line. Walking up to the central panel, a large shaft of peppermint candy with a glowing, round candy glass sheet pressed on top of it, I pressed my hand down. Feeling the sugar warm under my fingers and grow the slightest bit sticky before She finished with her analysis of my handprint and the glowing red stripes of the candy cane turned green.
Garish and overstated but I had to admit it was affective. “What are you doing to Sherlock?” I asked.
A face swirled into being on the spun sugar pain in front of me. It was soft, warm looking but not all together human. “Please state your query again, John Watson.”
“I asked what you were doing to Sherlock.”
“I am looking after him, as Mr. Willy Wonka ordered.” Was all the response I got, as her face began fading off the screen.
She obviously didn’t know me that well if she thought that was all that it would take to dissuade me from asking more questions. “Don’t play with me. He’s not acting like himself. So what did you do?”
The face came back into focus, and gave me a disappointed look. The kind I hadn’t seen used in all the years that had passed since I left my parent’s house. It was ridiculous that it was a living building with a giant, computer mind that finally managed to make me feel guilty.
“How do you know what is normal for him and what is not? You’ve only known him for a handful of weeks. You don’t know everything that he is, or that he does.”
“I know that he isn’t this calm. Not when there isn’t a case to solve.”
Now she was giving me a motherly smile. “I give my residents with anything they want. Anything that is within my power to give them I am willing and able to provide.”
“What are you giving Sherlock, then?”
“I’m giving him as many chances to experiment as he likes, and I do not judge him because he is not like other men. He is one of my children, just as Willy is.”
“And what about me?” I was whining but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I had sacrificed myself for Sherlock, almost died for him and yet I couldn’t give him the one thing he seemed to need. I could practically feel my dreams of spending the rest of my life with him going up in flames.
“I am sorry, my John. You are one of my children too, but there are some things I can not create. Things you want and dream of.”
“I dream of staying with Sherlock. Why can’t you give me that?”
“You’re asking the wrong question.” She said, before fading out again.
And no matter how many times I yelled for her she didn’t come back to the screen. I’d been dismissed and no matter how angry I was, I wasn’t angry enough to force my company on her for longer than I had to. It wasn't like it would bother her if I stayed there and kept yelling, I was the one who would end up suffering for my stubbornness.
So I left, and went to go find Sherlock again. It would be boring watching him try to make the phone work but I didn’t have anything else to do and I wanted to enjoy as much time with him as I could before I was forced to leave the factory, and Sherlock.
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The next day Sherlock looked at me, His face lit up like a child who'd just gotten his first taste of chocolate. Like heaven was at his fingertips, and asked. "Don't you understand what this means John?"
I wished I had been the one who'd given him this joy. As it was I didn't know what it meant. It was pleasure at the idea of having a mystery to investigate, but it seemed like more than that. "What is it?"
"I never have to be bored again." He crowed, before running off to stoop over the shoulder of an Oompa Loompa who was working on some sort of blue chemical compound that smoked and bubbled.
Never have to be bored again. I knew what happened when Sherlock got bored, but I'd never considered bringing him here to keep him entertained. It was all dead bodies and danger with Sherlock. Not that the Chocolate Factory wasn't dangerous, but I could hope that we didn't end up solving Oompa Loompa murders during our visit.
"I don't think this will be the short visit that you planned."
I jumped to the ceiling, spinning around to face Willy. Who as was his habit had managed to sneak up on me despite the year of training I had received in my absence from the factory. "What do you mean?"
"You can see it can't you? The joy on his face. He doesn't want to leave the factory. And of course I' am hardly going to make him leave." He looked over to wear Sherlock was Harruging some unfortunate Oompa, who was in turn giving him a smile that promised a bloody and properly rhyming revenge." It was like this when I was young and the Factory was still all I needed. I loved it then, the experimenting the boundless possibilities. Your young man is just the same."
"He likes murder, and blood, and body parts in the fridge. Not sweets and childhood wonder."
"True, he's a bit more bloody than I had planned. But I can hardly be picky when it comes to picking an heir." He looked down his long nose at me. His top hat tipped just so to make him look wise and mischievous, like one of Shakespeare fairies. "And I know that you'll be here to keep an eye on him. Just like your grandfather kept an eye on me."
"It's not like that." I immediately replied. Because no matter what the tabloids and rumor mills claimed about Willy and Grandpa Charlie's relationship I knew the truth. Told over the span of hundreds of bed time stories. "We aren't like that."
"You want to be."
Of course he would know that. Just as I was sure that Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, and even Moriarty knew it.
The only one who seemed unaware was the great detective himself. Which was so out of character that I had my doubts about his lack of insight. Surely it would be easier to just pretend not to see rather than have a 'boring' conversation about how he didn't return my feelings. "He's married to his work, and I'm happy to support him."
"Yes, I suppose you are." We stood side by side watching as Sherlock flitted around the room like a giant crow, Oompa Loompas crowding around his feet. Taking turns trying to climb his coat tails without him noticing. A task that was made easier by the way he paced about the room, filming his hands and talking to himself. Willy continued, "But you won't always be happy with it. You'll start to want something more, something he's not giving you. You've already started, or you'd be happy because he is happy."
"I'm fine!" the idea of being without Sherlock."
"There is no shame in it. We all need to be appreciated for what we are, what we do, what we can create. I am appreciated, because my candy brings joy to everyone. I let the idea of being loved rule me. I worked so hard and so long trying to perfect my candy, that my relationship with Charlie was forgotten."
I turned to look at him. He'd never been this honest about what happened before. Not like Grandpa Charlie. "What do you mean?"
He continued to ramble, as though he hadn't heard the question. "You are happy to be put behind his work because it makes him happy, but what makes you happy, John?"
I looked back towards Sherlock, and felt my face soften as it tended to do when I looked at him for too long. "Sherlock makes me happy. Happier than I've ever been."
"What would you do if he disappeared for weeks on end, too busy to spend time with you? What if there was nothing else in the factory, or in your home in London? What would you do?"
"I would—" What would I do? The idea of being without Sherlock made my heart feel like it was being ripped out of my chest and stepped on. The pain was so bad. "I'd do my best to wait for him."
"And if he didn't come back? Didn't even notice the pain he was causing you?"
"I'd have to leave. I couldn't stand it. He's – he's everything."
Willy leaned down until his face was on level with mine and our eyes met. There was something in his gaze. Something old, knowing, and not all together human. I had to wonder how much he'd become a part of the factory in all his years living within her. "Don't let yourself start to hate him. It will hurt both of you as you can't imagine. If he can't be with you in the way you need its better to leave now. "
"I can't."
"I would help you. As would Mycroft. It was amazing how casual he was when offering promises on Mycroft's behalf. Their relationship must have progressed farther than I'd known. Sherlock would be happy here and I could give him a candy so that he wouldn't ever remember what you had. He wouldn't have to miss you. If you wait to long though, nothing I can make will be able to heal a broken heart."
"A broken heart?"
He stood back to his full height and reached up to trace his fingers over the brim of his hat. "Yes, no matter how you love a person. Your heart can still break when their gone. You know that your Uncle
Charlie and I weren't lovers, not as the world defines it, but he was my soul mate all the same. Even if you can't be everything to each other don't let that stop you from trying to be more that simply friends."
I stared at my feet for a moment, planning my reply to that strange statement. But when I looked up Willy had disappeared back to wherever it was he'd come from in the first place. I was alone with the memory of Willy's words and a best friend who didn't even remember that I was there.
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“Come on John! We’re going out.” Something pointy and hard poked me in the side.
I cracked my eye open and met Willy, back in his male form and dressed up in his best top hat and suit coat. His cane poked at my side again. “It’s early in the morning Willy and Sherlock and I are on factory arrest until Moriarty is found. Just go ahead and have a good time on your own.” I said, before turning over and pulling my blanket up over my head.
Willy’s cane started poking me in the back. “Willy!”
“Come on, John. The day is still young and I want to meet all of your friends.”
I pulled the blanket down enough that my face was uncovered. “I already told you that I can't go out with you until Moriarty was caught.”
“Then we’d better start working to catch him.” When I couldn’t think of a reply to that he started poking me in the back again.
Until I rolled over and grabbed his cane. “Enough. What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to come out with me.”
I started rubbing the bridge of my nose. “What part of this don’t you understand Willy?”
He gave me his best innocent look. Which was no more believable than Sherlock's.
“You're doing this to get Mycroft's attention aren't' you?" Sometimes he was so much like Sherlock it was scary. Though at least he hadn't texted Mycroft randomly to tell him he was about to do something stupid. At least I hoped he hadn't. "Did you tell Mycroft what you were planning?" He just continued to give me an innocent look. It didn't get any more believable. "Fine, I’ll come with you.
Just to make sure you don’t get yourself into any trouble while we’re out. I don’t want to have to explain this to anybody.”
He held up his three fingers with the other two crossed over the palm. “Scout’s honor.”
I didn't bother mentioning that I doubted he'd ever been a scout. I didn’t want to deal with his long, involved explanation of why he still had the right to use the use their oath making gesture. Better to just wait and stem off his mayhem later when he decided to break his supposed 'oath'.
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Willy was like Sherlock some times. He approached DA Lestrade’s crime scene with the same kind of drama. Cane twirling round and round and a jaunty whistle on his lips, he had the eyes of every member of Scotland Yard on him as soon as we were in sight.
A few of them glanced at me, but after a quick glance their attention was drawn right back to Willy.
Funny, I’d been expecting more stares. Particularly since I was supposed to be in seclusion with Sherlock.
Willy used the top of his cane to lift the police tape up, over our heads. I ducked in front of him and under the police tape first. Only Sally spared a glare for me, since the rest of the police force was still busy staring at Willy. You’d think he was the first purple suit wearing man they’d ever seen.
“So you must be DA Lestrade! A pleasure to meet you.” He grabbed Lestrade’s hand and started pumping it vigorously. “A dark chocolate lover, I see. Always a good choice.” He pulled a bar of chocolate out from behind Lestrade’s ear.
I had to resist the urge to clap my hand over my face. Willy might share Sherlock’s pension for the dramatics but he definitely didn’t share his sense of cool.
“And a fan of my super-sour jelly babies!” He let go of Lestrade’s hand and grabbed Sally, shaking her hand vigorously and making a bag of said Jelly Babies appear between their clasped hands. I prepared to rescue him when she inevitably kneed him in the balls.
I was shocked when she just smiled. “Well, well, well you just can’t resist picking up crazy men can you John?”
I considered not answering, but she would just get more belligerent if I continued to ignore her. “Sally, I’d like to introduce you to Willy Wonka.”
“You’re kidding right? Everybody knows that Wily Wonka never leaves his factory. So what are you trying to do? This is one of Holmes’ tricks isn’t it?”
“Shut up, Anderson.” Lestrade snapped. Grabbing me by the arm with one hand and Willy with the other he dragged us into an alley far enough away from the crime scene that it would be hard for anyone to overhear what I we were talking about. “What are the twoof you thinking? You know you’re supposed to be in hiding.”
Willy and I shared a look. A couple of eye twitches and a shoulder shrug. We still couldn’t figure out what Lestrade meant. “Lestrade?” I started
“Look, I’m impressed by your disguise." He said to Willy. "It's good, even better than your usual costumes, but how long do you think it will take for Moriarty to figure out what you two are up to. You might not look like yourself, but you didn't even bother to give him a disguise." He pointed his finger in my direction.
“I know I wasn’t supposed to come out of hiding but I don’t see what the big deal is. Moriarty isn't likely to come after me if he can't get Sherlock as well. And we left Sherlock safely back at the safe house.”
“Sure you did.” He nodded his head in Willy’s direction.
“I don't understand your point” Willy said.
He gusted out a sigh. “How stupid do you think I am? I know Sherlock doesn’t keep up with popular culture but was Willy Wonka the best false identity you could come up with?” He asked me.
“I’m afraid I still don’t understand, dear boy. I am Willy Wonka.”
Lestrade started rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “John, can you please try to reason with him?”
I looked over at Willy again. If he was Sherlock in disguise then I would try to reason with him. I wasn’t sure what to do since it wasn’t Sherlock. I should never have let Willy goad me into this. Things just kept getting weirder and weirder.
Thankfully Mycroft showed up before I managed to figure out what to say. With a dark look and his sheer personal presence he had Lestrade’s full attention with only soft clearing of his throat. “Is there a problem here Detective?”
“Yes, you’re brother is taking stupid risks and dragging Watson down with him.”
Mycroft looked at us over Lestrade’s shoulder. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. My brother isn’t present.”
“What?” Lestrade spun to stare at us. “Then who is?” He pointed at Willy. After a few seconds his jaw dropped.
Interrupting him before he could blurt out the truth, Mycroft said. “If you will excuse us we have places to be. Doctor Watson, I expect you and your companion in my car within the next five minutes. “
I grabbed Willy’s arm by the wrist and dragged him past Lestrade, Scotland Yard, and the police tape, until we reached Mycroft’s car. I wasn’t surprised when the war swung open before we even reached it, to show Mycroft’s enigmatic assistant.
Willy, on the other hand, was surprised and delighted to see her, and used Mycroft’s absence to discuss possible birthday gifts for ‘Dear Mycroft’. I left him to it. She was more than capable of handling him if she could handle both Holmes brothers.
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"I'm thinking about going back to London." I could have broken my plan to Sherlock more gently but I'd been waiting to tell him for three days, while he disappeared into the bowels of the factory without warning. And with only the Oompa Loompas rhyming directions to help me find him I wasn't passing up the opportunity to discuss things with him while he we were sharing dinner.
I hadn't looked to hard after the time they almost made me fall into a vat of fudge in their attempts to give me directions. I couldn’t tell if they'd done it on purpose, on accident, or just thought it was funny. Whatever their reasons they'd made it clear that they weren’t going to help me find my friend, boyfriend, whatever he was to me.
If this is what things had been like for Grandpa Charlie then I could see why he'd left. I loved the factory, but she didn't love me and I had long suspected that it was the factory that made the decisions when it came to these things. Willy had always claimed he was in charge but the fact that the rooms always moved around on him and the factory as he put it 'had opinions' led me to believe that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. And picking her new owner or whatever Willy, and now Sherlock were to her.
Sherlock nodded absently at me eating jelly babies with one hand and scribbling in a notebook with another.
"So you don't have any problem with me going back to London to face Moriarty?"
That got his attention. His head jerked up and he stared at me for a long moment with a jelly-baby half in and half out of his mouth. "Don't be ridiculous, John. Why would you need to go back? We have everything we need to keep busy here."
I wasn't having putting up with being dismissed that easily. "So you don't care about the fact that Moriarty is still out there trying to kill us. You don't want to sneak past Mycroft and his people to go investigate?"
"I'm busy."
It was a statement of fact. He didn't sound the least bit petulant. He always sounded petulant when it came to Moriarty. He'd been that way since he'd first heard the name from the killer cabbie. "So you don't care if I get myself blown up."
"Don't expect me to support you're acting foolishly, John. " He gathered his papers before stomping off, the Oompa Loompas trailing after him. Leaving me alone in the gingerbread walled dining room with my plate full of chocolate and Full-meal gum. A cold knot of dread took up residence in my stomach.
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I gave Sherlock a week. During which I attempted to have three more conversations about my returning to London. All of which ended in the same way. Then it was time for me to leave.
Willy was waiting for me in my ice cream mountain room, when I went there to say one last goodbye.
This time I wasn't planning on coming back. "So, you'll be leaving now. Just like Charlie." His cheery tone felt flat, discordant.
"Sherlock doesn’t need me anymore and you're right about what will happen if I stay here."
He looked down at his purple boots, clicking the heels together like Dorothy wishing that she could find her way back home. "I'd hoped I was wrong, but your Sherlock is much like me I'm afraid, and the Factory needs someone to run her."
It felt like sacrilege to ask, but I wasn't ready to give up just yet. "Is there anyway to break the hold it has on him? Some way to get him back?"
"You could destroy her, I suppose, but I don't know if even that would work. The stories say that I made her, but it's not that simple. I made a chocolate seed full of all my hopes and dreams. All the warmth that chocolate could bring to a person's heart. I'd thought that perhaps I would be able to grow a chocolate tree if I could just find the right bit of magic. But a factory grew up instead. It was more than I'd thought was possible. Everything I dreamed of it brought to me. "
He seemed so sad Even his hat seemed to droop. I sat down beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. His bent his neck so that his head rested on top of mine. His top hat fell to the side, rolling on its brim until it fell over the edge of the bed.
"But it couldn't give me everything you understand. It couldn't give me a companion. It brought me the Oompas and for I time that seemed like enough. But in the end it wasn't. The Oompa Loompas are kind and mischievous, but they aren't human. Not in the way you or I would define it anyway. They are marvelous folk, but I do get lonely on occasion."
"So you sent out the Golden Tickets."
His boney chin dug into my skull as he nodded. "We'd agreed to send the workers away. They were stealing from me and upsetting the chocolate, and that just wouldn't do, but I'd hoped that if I could find a child she'd be able to love them like she loved me."
"Why couldn't she?" I asked. I'd long wondered from Grandpa Charlie's stories why he hadn't been able to stay in the factory, it seemed like it should have been enough even if Willy hadn't been enough to make him happy. When I'd come here when I was a child it had seemed a grand place of wonder and magic. Now everything good and bright was locked away from me.
"Oh, she did love Charlie dearly. That didn't change until after he'd become an adult. He was a lovely young man but had an unfortunate penchant for being logical and responsible." He winked at me. "Just like you are. She can't abide logic. I think it offends her. For all he's a logical man, your Sherlock isn't ruled by the way things 'should be' the same way you are. "
I'd always prided myself on being a logical man. Now I wished I hadn't tried so hard. Maybe if I hadn't I would have been able to stay.
"I'm sorry John, I never meant for you to be hurt like this. I promise that when I sent you the basket and invitation to come for a visit I didn't realize that your friend would become a part of her. From all of your letters I hadn’t thought he would be the type."
Neither had I. "I don't blame you Willy. I blame the Factory."
He held me tighter. "Are you going to try to destroy her?" I wished I could see his twinkling eyes so that I could tell if he was afraid or angry.
"No, I couldn't." No matter how much I hated her, I could still remember the welcome she'd given me when I'd first come and all the amazing stories Grandpa used to tell. How could I take that opportunity away from any other unfortunate child who made their way to her gates? "She's too important."
There was the press of lips against my hair. "Thank you John."
I couldn’t say he was welcome. Not now. "I'm not going to come back though. At least not for a long time. I can't stand the pain or take the change of her taking something else from me. Not after she kept you away from Grandpa Charlie and now me away from Sherlock."
"I understand, though I do ask that you let me come visit you sometimes."
"Really? You never leave the factory." Well perhaps not never, but it certainly didn't happen that often and he'd never been one to come to family functions.
"Really. I can trust that the factory is being looked after now."
I was sure that he didn't mean to rub in Sherlock's decision to stay, but it still hurt. I shoved myself away from him, standing up and heading for the door. Planning to collect my bags from my new room before I left. "I'll be leaving soon. Can I trust you and the Factory to look after Sherlock?"
"You have my word. As long as you promise to look after dear Mycroft for me in return."
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I walked out of the factory's doors and into a bitingly cold winter day. Just like all the others that had defined my life. I was too practical to let the sense of deja'vu keep me from moving. If I stopped I'd be tempted to stay, so I just kept walking, not looking back at the factory until I'd reached the gates. Which swung open of their own accord.
There was a black car waiting for me and in front of its open back door, Mycroft stood with his umbrella. I walked towards him. Only then did I risk glancing back over my shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of Willy or Sherlock. There was nothing but the high brick walls and smoke stacks of the factory. The same as they had always been.
The gates shut with a final sounding clang. I'd been cut off from the factory and Sherlock with it.
I never should have taken Willy up on his offer to take us in. I would have stood there, contemplating all that had gone wrong since Moriarty had first come into my life and strapped a bomb to my chest, if Mycroft hadn’t interfered.
He grabbed my hand. “Don’t worry, we’ll see them both again soon. I give you my word.”
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Part 4
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Strangely enough, he was as good as his word. Something I would never have expected from Mycroft, who's only interest in me seemed to be wither or not I'd be able to help Sherlock. Though his understanding behavior might have had something to do with the fact that travelling with me gave him an excuse to see both Sherlock, who still considered Mycroft his arch-nemesis, and Willy.
But as these things usually did, the visits petered out. From once a week to once a month, to barely every six months. It wasn't that we didn't care for each other any more. The four of us were so wrapped up in each other's lives there wasn't any point in trying to escape. It was just that as time passed, it became easier to make excuses so that we didn't have to see each other.
He wasn't getting older and it hurt to see him so happy and young when I felt like the world was draining me of everything vital, now that I didn't have Sherlock to live for. Mycroft found me a job in an out of the way Surgery far from London and Moriarty's stomping ground.
It seemed to appease the evil mastermind, at least enough that he never did anything too noticeable, or sent any of his spies to beat me up. I was sure they were around, just waiting for Sherlock to come visit me, but they weren't worth sparing much thought to. Not when I knew Sherlock wasn't going to visit.
I met Mary Morstan almost exactly two years after I left the factory. Sherlock and I had settled for corresponding through text messages and the occasion comment on my blog. It wasn't ideal, but it was enough to let me know that he was okay and continuing to thrive under Willy, and the factory's, watchful eyes.
Mary showed up at my surgery as a secretary. She didn't like to speak about what she'd done before and I found myself letting it go with unexpected ease. Her unusual entrance into the Surgery made me suspect either Mycroft or Moriarty's hand in her hiring, but once she managed to stay for more than a few weeks I decided that either way she if wasn't enough of a threat for Mycroft to get rid, there was nothing for me to worry about.
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"Doctor Watson?" Mary knocked gently on my open office door.
I glanced up from my paperwork. My eyes were gritty and the Surgery had closed down two hours before. I should have gone home then, but it was easier to just say I was going to look through one more file. And then one more file after that.
I didn't want to go back to my empty flat with cold tea and beans on toast. Nor did I want to sit alone in a restaurant and remember my awkward dinners with Sherlock. Even here, hours away from London, I couldn't escape my memories of him. "Yes Mary?"
"Do you think maybe you should go home?"
"I will in a little while." I turned back to my paperwork, trying to act like my attention wasn't entirely on
Mary, waiting to hear her leave so that I could relax again.
She didn't move for a long moment. Then, instead of leaving, she stepped further into my office. "I was thinking that we might could go out to dinner together."
"I'm busy, but thank you for the offer." I did my best to be polite despite wanting to just scream at her to go away. We needed to work together and dismissing her out of hand would only bring bad feelings.
"Please Doctor? You'd be doing me a real favor."
There wasn't a polite way to say no after that.
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Mary rested her head against the car window. I couldn't see her face but given past history I was willing to bet that she was glaring at Anthea. Despite Mycroft and my attempts the two of them had never managed to get along. Tough neither of us were quite sure why. Well Mycroft claimed he didn't know. I knew better than to think I'd ever know the truth on that front.
We'd gotten close over the years, but there were limits.
"I still don't see why you let him drag us out here."
"I told you, I had someone I wanted you to meet." I replied. I'd never been able to come up with a good way to explain Willy to her. She knew about Sherlock, but there was knowing about him and then there was meeting him.
"So you had us kidnapped."
"Don't be so impolite, Miss Morstan"
She rolled her eyes at him and slumped back down against the window. This family visit was already turning into a complete disaster.
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Willy and Sherlock met us at the Factory gates. Willy in his purple suit, cane polished to a fine shine, and Sherlock in his velour robe.
Mary, who was as casually and properly dressed as ever stared at them in obvious amazement. The proper thing to do would be to make the proper introductions but it had been to long since I had seen either of them. I pulled Willy a tight hug before gripping Sherlock's hand for a shake and using it to leverage him into a hug as well.
"John?"
Mary's quavering call was enough to pull me away from feeling Sherlock's bony form and smelling his distinctive scent.
I pulled away trying to come up with a suitable explanation for who Willy was and what Sherlock meant to me.
Sherlock was too quick for me, you'd barely be able to tell he'd been languishing in the Factory for three years as quick as his wits still were. "You must be John's new interest. I am Sherlock Holmes a friend of your fiancé's."
"Sherlock!" I snapped even though I couldn't make myself let go of the hold I had on his shoulder.
He just gave me a look. "Very well. If you would like to follow me and John, I'll show you the factory."
"What about Mycroft?" She asked.
He snorted and didn't reply.
When I looked over to see if I could figure out what he was implying I found Willy and Mycroft sharing a heated kiss while Anthea leaned against the fenced and typed away on her blackberry.
I grabbed Mary and dragged her after Sherlock as she seemed more interested in staring in slack jawed shock at the two of them. Once we were out of ear shot she leaned over and whispered into my ear. "Who is that man? I never thought I'd see Mycroft so." She seemed to loose either her train of thought or track of a polite way to describe Mycroft's dalliance.
"He's Willy Wonka."
"No, really."
He didn't bother saying anything else. Though I was pretty sure I heard another snort.
She turned to me, with a raised eyebrow.
"He really is."
"Right…and I suppose this is his magical Factory."
"That's right."
This time it was Mary that snorted. That changed once we followed Sherlock into the factory. She stared as we entered the firs, huge hallway and watched in a mixture of awe and shock as we went through the trick doors and the ever downward leading hallways towards the chocolate river and candy meadow.
Sherlock stayed in front of us, so that his face wasn’t' visible, but I knew him well enough to recognize the proud way he walked. Normally it meant that he'd solved some great crime, but this time he seemed to just be preening at having gotten one over on Mary, for no particular reason.
I just followed the two of them, glad to feel the warmth of the factory again.
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"Why did you bring her here, John?" He didn't look at me, instead keeping his attention on his beakers of chocolate and sugar.
I hopped up onto the stool next to him. "I just wanted her to know the truth."
"If you just wanted tell her the truth you would have just told her to start with."
"She wouldn't have believed me. We're talking about Willy Wonka's legendary factory at all."
"There are other ways of making her believe you. You wanted me to meet her, and for her to meet me. That's why you haven't proposed yet."
"I wish you hadn't made that fiancé comment." I leaned over to rest my head against his shoulder. It didn't make the best of pillows but it still felt comforting after so long.
"Then you shouldn't be so obvious about your plans. And really, must you carry the ring in your pocket wherever you go?"
I pulled it out of my pocket and cracked the jewelry case's lid so that I could stare at the ring inside. "What else would I do with it?"
"Try, she is a curious woman and you're frighteningly dull when it comes to hiding places."
I sighed. "So what do you think?"
"I think she's as dull as you are. I don't see why you want to spend time with her instead of staying in the factory with me."
Sometimes I didn't know either, but then I remembered how out of place I'd felt when I'd tried to spend a few months here. It wasn't that I didn't love Sherlock, Willy, even the factory. I just couldn't stand being useless. At least with Mary I felt needed. "It's complicated."
"Boring."
That almost got a chuckle out of me. I leaned further into his body and let myself relax into his side. He shifted a bit to take more of my weight and I let myself doze a bit to the sound of his messing about.
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It was just as well that Sherlock and I got our issues worked out on the first night of our stay. I rarely saw him after that. He made some excuses about some sort of experiment with bees. Which Willy corroborated.
I took that as a sign to work on deepening my relationship with Mary. This trip was supposed to help me determine if I really could propose to Mary.
I loved her as a dear friend, it would never be the same kind of soul deep bond I had with Sherlock, but being different didn't make it worse. She was a wonderful woman and I felt that I could trust her and enjoy her company. If we were to have kids, she would be an ideal mother.
But there would still be times when I would want to visit Sherlock, or come for a stay at the factory. It wouldn't be often, I'd grown used to being away, but even though decades had passed since I first came to the factory, I had never been able to completely forget it.
I'd given up trying. Mary at least didn't seem too off-put, as I showed her around. She enjoyed the quiet of the candy meadow, and many a morning when I woke up, she'd already abandoned our shared to go, read by the waterfall.
The factory seemed to like her as well. She had at least avoided doing anything bad to her. Even when she wandered around on her own. More and more often I found myself pulling the ring box out of my pocket and staring at it, thinking about ways to propose, but nothing seemed quite right. No matter how much I wanted to be engaged to Mary before we left the Factory.
The day before we were set to leave, I still hadn't managed to propose.
That morning when I got up, Mary was gone as usual, but unlike usual I wasn't alone in the room.
Sherlock had somehow managed to sneak in while I was asleep. "You know I'm pretty sure that you're not supposed to be here."
"Why haven't you proposed yet?"
I tossed the blanket off and headed for the bathroom, not bothering to feel embarrassed about Sherlock seeing me in just my briefs. "I'm been busy."
He snorted, and when I glanced out of the crack between the bathroom door and the door jam, I saw him sprawled out in the chair with his fingers steepled in front of him. I left him to his ponderings.
When I got back out of the bathroom the ring box was missing. It didn't take a genius of Sherlocks' caliber to figure out where it had gone.
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So I wasn't all that surprised when it showed up next to my plate that night. Or when a violin wielding Sherlock entered the dinning room and began to play a romantic tune.
Though I did manage to feel shocked when Willy and Mycroft showed up in traditional 'watering' penguin suits. I raised an eyebrow at Mycroft, asking him how he'd managed to get dragged into this craziness. The heated look he gave Willy gave me a much more detailed answer than I needed. Though it didn't really surprise me that the two of them were into role-playing.
Carefully not meeting Willy's eyes, since I was pretty sure I'd blush hard enough to combust, I cleared my voice and stood up. Strode over to Mary's chair and fell to one knee. "Mary Morstan will you marry me?"
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Epilogue
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Despite only being five years old, my son, Sherlock, took after his namesake to a frightening extent. Right down to the fake innocent look he loved to use against me.
Which he was doing now, in an attempt to get out of having to go to bed so early. "Just one more story Dad? Please? I want to hear about Sherlock and his amazing Chocolate Factory.
I sighed, but settled myself onto the bed beside him. I was completely helpless against that look. "Grandpa Charlie's funeral was held on a bitingly cold day."
Author: chibifukurou
Artist: chosenfire28
Fandoms: Sherlock/Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 15,000
Content Warnings: Mentions of Past Character Death
Authors Notes: A big thank you to
aur_in_hue for agreeing to beta my story. I hope your computer gets fixed and I'm sorry we weren't able to finish working on this fic together. All mistakes are my ownPart 3
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Sherlock’s face when he first caught sight of the factory was a sight to behold. On anybody else it would have been a sign of slight unease. For him it was a sign of drop-jawed shock.
I stifled a laugh, not wanting him to run off in a huff, and went to get our luggage out of the trunk.
The gate swung open with a loud creak.
Tossing my messenger bag over my shoulder and settling Sherlock’s bag in the crook of my elbow, I grabbed him by the arm and guided him into the Factory’s courtyard.
The gate swung shut behind us. Sherlock turned to look over his shoulder at it, probably trying to figure out how it had done that.
I wasn’t in a hurry to explain it. I doubted that he’d believe in sentinel Factory’s. Hopefully she’d be able to convince him with her own unique intelligence. “Come on Sherlock, I want you to meet Grandpa Willy.”
The Factory’s door popped open and Willy sprung out, pulling me into a tight hug. Then he grabbed Sherlock in a tight hug. This time Sherlock was shocked enough to let his jaw drop.
I covered my mouth with a hand, and edged around them to enter the factory. The door clanged shut and I was finally able to laugh myself silly. Sherlock's face was just too amusing.
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Sherlock settled into the Factory, surprisingly easily. Then again, he didn’t exactly act like an adult and he seemed to understand whatever strange logic ruled Willy's actions.
The Oompas Loompas were particularly pleased with him and as often as I managed to find him, I found them as well.
In all honesty I couldn’t have said if I’d ever seen Sherlock happier than he was in the factory. Far from being bored by being forced to stay in the same place day after day, he seemed to thrive.
Often, I found myself wondering if the factory was playing some roll in his new contentment. If she could make people miserable enough to leave then it probably wouldn’t be hard to make them want to stay.
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One day, once I had checked twice to make sure that Sherlock was busy working on a new, working cell phone molded chocolate, I snuck down into the central processing room, where the Factory’s heart dwelled.
Despite living here for two years when Id’ been younger, I ‘d only been to the heart room twice and I hadn’t ever planned on repeating the experience. It was uncomfortable for me looking on something so vast.
Wonka, and maybe Sherlock might be able to look at the room built of spun sugar mirrors and licorice wires and see something great and wonderful, but I could only see the unknowable and feel her mind pounding against mine. I was an ordinary man after all, the only things that me apart were my experiences, but as a woman and as a teenager growing up in the chocolate factory.
Neither of those experiences had been able to prepare me for a direct connection to Her. I couldn’t turn back though, not when Sherlock might be on the line. Walking up to the central panel, a large shaft of peppermint candy with a glowing, round candy glass sheet pressed on top of it, I pressed my hand down. Feeling the sugar warm under my fingers and grow the slightest bit sticky before She finished with her analysis of my handprint and the glowing red stripes of the candy cane turned green.
Garish and overstated but I had to admit it was affective. “What are you doing to Sherlock?” I asked.
A face swirled into being on the spun sugar pain in front of me. It was soft, warm looking but not all together human. “Please state your query again, John Watson.”
“I asked what you were doing to Sherlock.”
“I am looking after him, as Mr. Willy Wonka ordered.” Was all the response I got, as her face began fading off the screen.
She obviously didn’t know me that well if she thought that was all that it would take to dissuade me from asking more questions. “Don’t play with me. He’s not acting like himself. So what did you do?”
The face came back into focus, and gave me a disappointed look. The kind I hadn’t seen used in all the years that had passed since I left my parent’s house. It was ridiculous that it was a living building with a giant, computer mind that finally managed to make me feel guilty.
“How do you know what is normal for him and what is not? You’ve only known him for a handful of weeks. You don’t know everything that he is, or that he does.”
“I know that he isn’t this calm. Not when there isn’t a case to solve.”
Now she was giving me a motherly smile. “I give my residents with anything they want. Anything that is within my power to give them I am willing and able to provide.”
“What are you giving Sherlock, then?”
“I’m giving him as many chances to experiment as he likes, and I do not judge him because he is not like other men. He is one of my children, just as Willy is.”
“And what about me?” I was whining but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I had sacrificed myself for Sherlock, almost died for him and yet I couldn’t give him the one thing he seemed to need. I could practically feel my dreams of spending the rest of my life with him going up in flames.
“I am sorry, my John. You are one of my children too, but there are some things I can not create. Things you want and dream of.”
“I dream of staying with Sherlock. Why can’t you give me that?”
“You’re asking the wrong question.” She said, before fading out again.
And no matter how many times I yelled for her she didn’t come back to the screen. I’d been dismissed and no matter how angry I was, I wasn’t angry enough to force my company on her for longer than I had to. It wasn't like it would bother her if I stayed there and kept yelling, I was the one who would end up suffering for my stubbornness.
So I left, and went to go find Sherlock again. It would be boring watching him try to make the phone work but I didn’t have anything else to do and I wanted to enjoy as much time with him as I could before I was forced to leave the factory, and Sherlock.
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The next day Sherlock looked at me, His face lit up like a child who'd just gotten his first taste of chocolate. Like heaven was at his fingertips, and asked. "Don't you understand what this means John?"
I wished I had been the one who'd given him this joy. As it was I didn't know what it meant. It was pleasure at the idea of having a mystery to investigate, but it seemed like more than that. "What is it?"
"I never have to be bored again." He crowed, before running off to stoop over the shoulder of an Oompa Loompa who was working on some sort of blue chemical compound that smoked and bubbled.
Never have to be bored again. I knew what happened when Sherlock got bored, but I'd never considered bringing him here to keep him entertained. It was all dead bodies and danger with Sherlock. Not that the Chocolate Factory wasn't dangerous, but I could hope that we didn't end up solving Oompa Loompa murders during our visit.
"I don't think this will be the short visit that you planned."
I jumped to the ceiling, spinning around to face Willy. Who as was his habit had managed to sneak up on me despite the year of training I had received in my absence from the factory. "What do you mean?"
"You can see it can't you? The joy on his face. He doesn't want to leave the factory. And of course I' am hardly going to make him leave." He looked over to wear Sherlock was Harruging some unfortunate Oompa, who was in turn giving him a smile that promised a bloody and properly rhyming revenge." It was like this when I was young and the Factory was still all I needed. I loved it then, the experimenting the boundless possibilities. Your young man is just the same."
"He likes murder, and blood, and body parts in the fridge. Not sweets and childhood wonder."
"True, he's a bit more bloody than I had planned. But I can hardly be picky when it comes to picking an heir." He looked down his long nose at me. His top hat tipped just so to make him look wise and mischievous, like one of Shakespeare fairies. "And I know that you'll be here to keep an eye on him. Just like your grandfather kept an eye on me."
"It's not like that." I immediately replied. Because no matter what the tabloids and rumor mills claimed about Willy and Grandpa Charlie's relationship I knew the truth. Told over the span of hundreds of bed time stories. "We aren't like that."
"You want to be."
Of course he would know that. Just as I was sure that Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, and even Moriarty knew it.
The only one who seemed unaware was the great detective himself. Which was so out of character that I had my doubts about his lack of insight. Surely it would be easier to just pretend not to see rather than have a 'boring' conversation about how he didn't return my feelings. "He's married to his work, and I'm happy to support him."
"Yes, I suppose you are." We stood side by side watching as Sherlock flitted around the room like a giant crow, Oompa Loompas crowding around his feet. Taking turns trying to climb his coat tails without him noticing. A task that was made easier by the way he paced about the room, filming his hands and talking to himself. Willy continued, "But you won't always be happy with it. You'll start to want something more, something he's not giving you. You've already started, or you'd be happy because he is happy."
"I'm fine!" the idea of being without Sherlock."
"There is no shame in it. We all need to be appreciated for what we are, what we do, what we can create. I am appreciated, because my candy brings joy to everyone. I let the idea of being loved rule me. I worked so hard and so long trying to perfect my candy, that my relationship with Charlie was forgotten."
I turned to look at him. He'd never been this honest about what happened before. Not like Grandpa Charlie. "What do you mean?"
He continued to ramble, as though he hadn't heard the question. "You are happy to be put behind his work because it makes him happy, but what makes you happy, John?"
I looked back towards Sherlock, and felt my face soften as it tended to do when I looked at him for too long. "Sherlock makes me happy. Happier than I've ever been."
"What would you do if he disappeared for weeks on end, too busy to spend time with you? What if there was nothing else in the factory, or in your home in London? What would you do?"
"I would—" What would I do? The idea of being without Sherlock made my heart feel like it was being ripped out of my chest and stepped on. The pain was so bad. "I'd do my best to wait for him."
"And if he didn't come back? Didn't even notice the pain he was causing you?"
"I'd have to leave. I couldn't stand it. He's – he's everything."
Willy leaned down until his face was on level with mine and our eyes met. There was something in his gaze. Something old, knowing, and not all together human. I had to wonder how much he'd become a part of the factory in all his years living within her. "Don't let yourself start to hate him. It will hurt both of you as you can't imagine. If he can't be with you in the way you need its better to leave now. "
"I can't."
"I would help you. As would Mycroft. It was amazing how casual he was when offering promises on Mycroft's behalf. Their relationship must have progressed farther than I'd known. Sherlock would be happy here and I could give him a candy so that he wouldn't ever remember what you had. He wouldn't have to miss you. If you wait to long though, nothing I can make will be able to heal a broken heart."
"A broken heart?"
He stood back to his full height and reached up to trace his fingers over the brim of his hat. "Yes, no matter how you love a person. Your heart can still break when their gone. You know that your Uncle
Charlie and I weren't lovers, not as the world defines it, but he was my soul mate all the same. Even if you can't be everything to each other don't let that stop you from trying to be more that simply friends."
I stared at my feet for a moment, planning my reply to that strange statement. But when I looked up Willy had disappeared back to wherever it was he'd come from in the first place. I was alone with the memory of Willy's words and a best friend who didn't even remember that I was there.
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“Come on John! We’re going out.” Something pointy and hard poked me in the side.
I cracked my eye open and met Willy, back in his male form and dressed up in his best top hat and suit coat. His cane poked at my side again. “It’s early in the morning Willy and Sherlock and I are on factory arrest until Moriarty is found. Just go ahead and have a good time on your own.” I said, before turning over and pulling my blanket up over my head.
Willy’s cane started poking me in the back. “Willy!”
“Come on, John. The day is still young and I want to meet all of your friends.”
I pulled the blanket down enough that my face was uncovered. “I already told you that I can't go out with you until Moriarty was caught.”
“Then we’d better start working to catch him.” When I couldn’t think of a reply to that he started poking me in the back again.
Until I rolled over and grabbed his cane. “Enough. What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to come out with me.”
I started rubbing the bridge of my nose. “What part of this don’t you understand Willy?”
He gave me his best innocent look. Which was no more believable than Sherlock's.
“You're doing this to get Mycroft's attention aren't' you?" Sometimes he was so much like Sherlock it was scary. Though at least he hadn't texted Mycroft randomly to tell him he was about to do something stupid. At least I hoped he hadn't. "Did you tell Mycroft what you were planning?" He just continued to give me an innocent look. It didn't get any more believable. "Fine, I’ll come with you.
Just to make sure you don’t get yourself into any trouble while we’re out. I don’t want to have to explain this to anybody.”
He held up his three fingers with the other two crossed over the palm. “Scout’s honor.”
I didn't bother mentioning that I doubted he'd ever been a scout. I didn’t want to deal with his long, involved explanation of why he still had the right to use the use their oath making gesture. Better to just wait and stem off his mayhem later when he decided to break his supposed 'oath'.
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Willy was like Sherlock some times. He approached DA Lestrade’s crime scene with the same kind of drama. Cane twirling round and round and a jaunty whistle on his lips, he had the eyes of every member of Scotland Yard on him as soon as we were in sight.
A few of them glanced at me, but after a quick glance their attention was drawn right back to Willy.
Funny, I’d been expecting more stares. Particularly since I was supposed to be in seclusion with Sherlock.
Willy used the top of his cane to lift the police tape up, over our heads. I ducked in front of him and under the police tape first. Only Sally spared a glare for me, since the rest of the police force was still busy staring at Willy. You’d think he was the first purple suit wearing man they’d ever seen.
“So you must be DA Lestrade! A pleasure to meet you.” He grabbed Lestrade’s hand and started pumping it vigorously. “A dark chocolate lover, I see. Always a good choice.” He pulled a bar of chocolate out from behind Lestrade’s ear.
I had to resist the urge to clap my hand over my face. Willy might share Sherlock’s pension for the dramatics but he definitely didn’t share his sense of cool.
“And a fan of my super-sour jelly babies!” He let go of Lestrade’s hand and grabbed Sally, shaking her hand vigorously and making a bag of said Jelly Babies appear between their clasped hands. I prepared to rescue him when she inevitably kneed him in the balls.
I was shocked when she just smiled. “Well, well, well you just can’t resist picking up crazy men can you John?”
I considered not answering, but she would just get more belligerent if I continued to ignore her. “Sally, I’d like to introduce you to Willy Wonka.”
“You’re kidding right? Everybody knows that Wily Wonka never leaves his factory. So what are you trying to do? This is one of Holmes’ tricks isn’t it?”
“Shut up, Anderson.” Lestrade snapped. Grabbing me by the arm with one hand and Willy with the other he dragged us into an alley far enough away from the crime scene that it would be hard for anyone to overhear what I we were talking about. “What are the twoof you thinking? You know you’re supposed to be in hiding.”
Willy and I shared a look. A couple of eye twitches and a shoulder shrug. We still couldn’t figure out what Lestrade meant. “Lestrade?” I started
“Look, I’m impressed by your disguise." He said to Willy. "It's good, even better than your usual costumes, but how long do you think it will take for Moriarty to figure out what you two are up to. You might not look like yourself, but you didn't even bother to give him a disguise." He pointed his finger in my direction.
“I know I wasn’t supposed to come out of hiding but I don’t see what the big deal is. Moriarty isn't likely to come after me if he can't get Sherlock as well. And we left Sherlock safely back at the safe house.”
“Sure you did.” He nodded his head in Willy’s direction.
“I don't understand your point” Willy said.
He gusted out a sigh. “How stupid do you think I am? I know Sherlock doesn’t keep up with popular culture but was Willy Wonka the best false identity you could come up with?” He asked me.
“I’m afraid I still don’t understand, dear boy. I am Willy Wonka.”
Lestrade started rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “John, can you please try to reason with him?”
I looked over at Willy again. If he was Sherlock in disguise then I would try to reason with him. I wasn’t sure what to do since it wasn’t Sherlock. I should never have let Willy goad me into this. Things just kept getting weirder and weirder.
Thankfully Mycroft showed up before I managed to figure out what to say. With a dark look and his sheer personal presence he had Lestrade’s full attention with only soft clearing of his throat. “Is there a problem here Detective?”
“Yes, you’re brother is taking stupid risks and dragging Watson down with him.”
Mycroft looked at us over Lestrade’s shoulder. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. My brother isn’t present.”
“What?” Lestrade spun to stare at us. “Then who is?” He pointed at Willy. After a few seconds his jaw dropped.
Interrupting him before he could blurt out the truth, Mycroft said. “If you will excuse us we have places to be. Doctor Watson, I expect you and your companion in my car within the next five minutes. “
I grabbed Willy’s arm by the wrist and dragged him past Lestrade, Scotland Yard, and the police tape, until we reached Mycroft’s car. I wasn’t surprised when the war swung open before we even reached it, to show Mycroft’s enigmatic assistant.
Willy, on the other hand, was surprised and delighted to see her, and used Mycroft’s absence to discuss possible birthday gifts for ‘Dear Mycroft’. I left him to it. She was more than capable of handling him if she could handle both Holmes brothers.
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"I'm thinking about going back to London." I could have broken my plan to Sherlock more gently but I'd been waiting to tell him for three days, while he disappeared into the bowels of the factory without warning. And with only the Oompa Loompas rhyming directions to help me find him I wasn't passing up the opportunity to discuss things with him while he we were sharing dinner.
I hadn't looked to hard after the time they almost made me fall into a vat of fudge in their attempts to give me directions. I couldn’t tell if they'd done it on purpose, on accident, or just thought it was funny. Whatever their reasons they'd made it clear that they weren’t going to help me find my friend, boyfriend, whatever he was to me.
If this is what things had been like for Grandpa Charlie then I could see why he'd left. I loved the factory, but she didn't love me and I had long suspected that it was the factory that made the decisions when it came to these things. Willy had always claimed he was in charge but the fact that the rooms always moved around on him and the factory as he put it 'had opinions' led me to believe that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. And picking her new owner or whatever Willy, and now Sherlock were to her.
Sherlock nodded absently at me eating jelly babies with one hand and scribbling in a notebook with another.
"So you don't have any problem with me going back to London to face Moriarty?"
That got his attention. His head jerked up and he stared at me for a long moment with a jelly-baby half in and half out of his mouth. "Don't be ridiculous, John. Why would you need to go back? We have everything we need to keep busy here."
I wasn't having putting up with being dismissed that easily. "So you don't care about the fact that Moriarty is still out there trying to kill us. You don't want to sneak past Mycroft and his people to go investigate?"
"I'm busy."
It was a statement of fact. He didn't sound the least bit petulant. He always sounded petulant when it came to Moriarty. He'd been that way since he'd first heard the name from the killer cabbie. "So you don't care if I get myself blown up."
"Don't expect me to support you're acting foolishly, John. " He gathered his papers before stomping off, the Oompa Loompas trailing after him. Leaving me alone in the gingerbread walled dining room with my plate full of chocolate and Full-meal gum. A cold knot of dread took up residence in my stomach.
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I gave Sherlock a week. During which I attempted to have three more conversations about my returning to London. All of which ended in the same way. Then it was time for me to leave.
Willy was waiting for me in my ice cream mountain room, when I went there to say one last goodbye.
This time I wasn't planning on coming back. "So, you'll be leaving now. Just like Charlie." His cheery tone felt flat, discordant.
"Sherlock doesn’t need me anymore and you're right about what will happen if I stay here."
He looked down at his purple boots, clicking the heels together like Dorothy wishing that she could find her way back home. "I'd hoped I was wrong, but your Sherlock is much like me I'm afraid, and the Factory needs someone to run her."
It felt like sacrilege to ask, but I wasn't ready to give up just yet. "Is there anyway to break the hold it has on him? Some way to get him back?"
"You could destroy her, I suppose, but I don't know if even that would work. The stories say that I made her, but it's not that simple. I made a chocolate seed full of all my hopes and dreams. All the warmth that chocolate could bring to a person's heart. I'd thought that perhaps I would be able to grow a chocolate tree if I could just find the right bit of magic. But a factory grew up instead. It was more than I'd thought was possible. Everything I dreamed of it brought to me. "
He seemed so sad Even his hat seemed to droop. I sat down beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. His bent his neck so that his head rested on top of mine. His top hat fell to the side, rolling on its brim until it fell over the edge of the bed.
"But it couldn't give me everything you understand. It couldn't give me a companion. It brought me the Oompas and for I time that seemed like enough. But in the end it wasn't. The Oompa Loompas are kind and mischievous, but they aren't human. Not in the way you or I would define it anyway. They are marvelous folk, but I do get lonely on occasion."
"So you sent out the Golden Tickets."
His boney chin dug into my skull as he nodded. "We'd agreed to send the workers away. They were stealing from me and upsetting the chocolate, and that just wouldn't do, but I'd hoped that if I could find a child she'd be able to love them like she loved me."
"Why couldn't she?" I asked. I'd long wondered from Grandpa Charlie's stories why he hadn't been able to stay in the factory, it seemed like it should have been enough even if Willy hadn't been enough to make him happy. When I'd come here when I was a child it had seemed a grand place of wonder and magic. Now everything good and bright was locked away from me.
"Oh, she did love Charlie dearly. That didn't change until after he'd become an adult. He was a lovely young man but had an unfortunate penchant for being logical and responsible." He winked at me. "Just like you are. She can't abide logic. I think it offends her. For all he's a logical man, your Sherlock isn't ruled by the way things 'should be' the same way you are. "
I'd always prided myself on being a logical man. Now I wished I hadn't tried so hard. Maybe if I hadn't I would have been able to stay.
"I'm sorry John, I never meant for you to be hurt like this. I promise that when I sent you the basket and invitation to come for a visit I didn't realize that your friend would become a part of her. From all of your letters I hadn’t thought he would be the type."
Neither had I. "I don't blame you Willy. I blame the Factory."
He held me tighter. "Are you going to try to destroy her?" I wished I could see his twinkling eyes so that I could tell if he was afraid or angry.
"No, I couldn't." No matter how much I hated her, I could still remember the welcome she'd given me when I'd first come and all the amazing stories Grandpa used to tell. How could I take that opportunity away from any other unfortunate child who made their way to her gates? "She's too important."
There was the press of lips against my hair. "Thank you John."
I couldn’t say he was welcome. Not now. "I'm not going to come back though. At least not for a long time. I can't stand the pain or take the change of her taking something else from me. Not after she kept you away from Grandpa Charlie and now me away from Sherlock."
"I understand, though I do ask that you let me come visit you sometimes."
"Really? You never leave the factory." Well perhaps not never, but it certainly didn't happen that often and he'd never been one to come to family functions.
"Really. I can trust that the factory is being looked after now."
I was sure that he didn't mean to rub in Sherlock's decision to stay, but it still hurt. I shoved myself away from him, standing up and heading for the door. Planning to collect my bags from my new room before I left. "I'll be leaving soon. Can I trust you and the Factory to look after Sherlock?"
"You have my word. As long as you promise to look after dear Mycroft for me in return."
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I walked out of the factory's doors and into a bitingly cold winter day. Just like all the others that had defined my life. I was too practical to let the sense of deja'vu keep me from moving. If I stopped I'd be tempted to stay, so I just kept walking, not looking back at the factory until I'd reached the gates. Which swung open of their own accord.
There was a black car waiting for me and in front of its open back door, Mycroft stood with his umbrella. I walked towards him. Only then did I risk glancing back over my shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of Willy or Sherlock. There was nothing but the high brick walls and smoke stacks of the factory. The same as they had always been.
The gates shut with a final sounding clang. I'd been cut off from the factory and Sherlock with it.
I never should have taken Willy up on his offer to take us in. I would have stood there, contemplating all that had gone wrong since Moriarty had first come into my life and strapped a bomb to my chest, if Mycroft hadn’t interfered.
He grabbed my hand. “Don’t worry, we’ll see them both again soon. I give you my word.”
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Part 4
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Strangely enough, he was as good as his word. Something I would never have expected from Mycroft, who's only interest in me seemed to be wither or not I'd be able to help Sherlock. Though his understanding behavior might have had something to do with the fact that travelling with me gave him an excuse to see both Sherlock, who still considered Mycroft his arch-nemesis, and Willy.
But as these things usually did, the visits petered out. From once a week to once a month, to barely every six months. It wasn't that we didn't care for each other any more. The four of us were so wrapped up in each other's lives there wasn't any point in trying to escape. It was just that as time passed, it became easier to make excuses so that we didn't have to see each other.
He wasn't getting older and it hurt to see him so happy and young when I felt like the world was draining me of everything vital, now that I didn't have Sherlock to live for. Mycroft found me a job in an out of the way Surgery far from London and Moriarty's stomping ground.
It seemed to appease the evil mastermind, at least enough that he never did anything too noticeable, or sent any of his spies to beat me up. I was sure they were around, just waiting for Sherlock to come visit me, but they weren't worth sparing much thought to. Not when I knew Sherlock wasn't going to visit.
I met Mary Morstan almost exactly two years after I left the factory. Sherlock and I had settled for corresponding through text messages and the occasion comment on my blog. It wasn't ideal, but it was enough to let me know that he was okay and continuing to thrive under Willy, and the factory's, watchful eyes.
Mary showed up at my surgery as a secretary. She didn't like to speak about what she'd done before and I found myself letting it go with unexpected ease. Her unusual entrance into the Surgery made me suspect either Mycroft or Moriarty's hand in her hiring, but once she managed to stay for more than a few weeks I decided that either way she if wasn't enough of a threat for Mycroft to get rid, there was nothing for me to worry about.
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"Doctor Watson?" Mary knocked gently on my open office door.
I glanced up from my paperwork. My eyes were gritty and the Surgery had closed down two hours before. I should have gone home then, but it was easier to just say I was going to look through one more file. And then one more file after that.
I didn't want to go back to my empty flat with cold tea and beans on toast. Nor did I want to sit alone in a restaurant and remember my awkward dinners with Sherlock. Even here, hours away from London, I couldn't escape my memories of him. "Yes Mary?"
"Do you think maybe you should go home?"
"I will in a little while." I turned back to my paperwork, trying to act like my attention wasn't entirely on
Mary, waiting to hear her leave so that I could relax again.
She didn't move for a long moment. Then, instead of leaving, she stepped further into my office. "I was thinking that we might could go out to dinner together."
"I'm busy, but thank you for the offer." I did my best to be polite despite wanting to just scream at her to go away. We needed to work together and dismissing her out of hand would only bring bad feelings.
"Please Doctor? You'd be doing me a real favor."
There wasn't a polite way to say no after that.
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Mary rested her head against the car window. I couldn't see her face but given past history I was willing to bet that she was glaring at Anthea. Despite Mycroft and my attempts the two of them had never managed to get along. Tough neither of us were quite sure why. Well Mycroft claimed he didn't know. I knew better than to think I'd ever know the truth on that front.
We'd gotten close over the years, but there were limits.
"I still don't see why you let him drag us out here."
"I told you, I had someone I wanted you to meet." I replied. I'd never been able to come up with a good way to explain Willy to her. She knew about Sherlock, but there was knowing about him and then there was meeting him.
"So you had us kidnapped."
"Don't be so impolite, Miss Morstan"
She rolled her eyes at him and slumped back down against the window. This family visit was already turning into a complete disaster.
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Willy and Sherlock met us at the Factory gates. Willy in his purple suit, cane polished to a fine shine, and Sherlock in his velour robe.
Mary, who was as casually and properly dressed as ever stared at them in obvious amazement. The proper thing to do would be to make the proper introductions but it had been to long since I had seen either of them. I pulled Willy a tight hug before gripping Sherlock's hand for a shake and using it to leverage him into a hug as well.
"John?"
Mary's quavering call was enough to pull me away from feeling Sherlock's bony form and smelling his distinctive scent.
I pulled away trying to come up with a suitable explanation for who Willy was and what Sherlock meant to me.
Sherlock was too quick for me, you'd barely be able to tell he'd been languishing in the Factory for three years as quick as his wits still were. "You must be John's new interest. I am Sherlock Holmes a friend of your fiancé's."
"Sherlock!" I snapped even though I couldn't make myself let go of the hold I had on his shoulder.
He just gave me a look. "Very well. If you would like to follow me and John, I'll show you the factory."
"What about Mycroft?" She asked.
He snorted and didn't reply.
When I looked over to see if I could figure out what he was implying I found Willy and Mycroft sharing a heated kiss while Anthea leaned against the fenced and typed away on her blackberry.
I grabbed Mary and dragged her after Sherlock as she seemed more interested in staring in slack jawed shock at the two of them. Once we were out of ear shot she leaned over and whispered into my ear. "Who is that man? I never thought I'd see Mycroft so." She seemed to loose either her train of thought or track of a polite way to describe Mycroft's dalliance.
"He's Willy Wonka."
"No, really."
He didn't bother saying anything else. Though I was pretty sure I heard another snort.
She turned to me, with a raised eyebrow.
"He really is."
"Right…and I suppose this is his magical Factory."
"That's right."
This time it was Mary that snorted. That changed once we followed Sherlock into the factory. She stared as we entered the firs, huge hallway and watched in a mixture of awe and shock as we went through the trick doors and the ever downward leading hallways towards the chocolate river and candy meadow.
Sherlock stayed in front of us, so that his face wasn’t' visible, but I knew him well enough to recognize the proud way he walked. Normally it meant that he'd solved some great crime, but this time he seemed to just be preening at having gotten one over on Mary, for no particular reason.
I just followed the two of them, glad to feel the warmth of the factory again.
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"Why did you bring her here, John?" He didn't look at me, instead keeping his attention on his beakers of chocolate and sugar.
I hopped up onto the stool next to him. "I just wanted her to know the truth."
"If you just wanted tell her the truth you would have just told her to start with."
"She wouldn't have believed me. We're talking about Willy Wonka's legendary factory at all."
"There are other ways of making her believe you. You wanted me to meet her, and for her to meet me. That's why you haven't proposed yet."
"I wish you hadn't made that fiancé comment." I leaned over to rest my head against his shoulder. It didn't make the best of pillows but it still felt comforting after so long.
"Then you shouldn't be so obvious about your plans. And really, must you carry the ring in your pocket wherever you go?"
I pulled it out of my pocket and cracked the jewelry case's lid so that I could stare at the ring inside. "What else would I do with it?"
"Try, she is a curious woman and you're frighteningly dull when it comes to hiding places."
I sighed. "So what do you think?"
"I think she's as dull as you are. I don't see why you want to spend time with her instead of staying in the factory with me."
Sometimes I didn't know either, but then I remembered how out of place I'd felt when I'd tried to spend a few months here. It wasn't that I didn't love Sherlock, Willy, even the factory. I just couldn't stand being useless. At least with Mary I felt needed. "It's complicated."
"Boring."
That almost got a chuckle out of me. I leaned further into his body and let myself relax into his side. He shifted a bit to take more of my weight and I let myself doze a bit to the sound of his messing about.
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It was just as well that Sherlock and I got our issues worked out on the first night of our stay. I rarely saw him after that. He made some excuses about some sort of experiment with bees. Which Willy corroborated.
I took that as a sign to work on deepening my relationship with Mary. This trip was supposed to help me determine if I really could propose to Mary.
I loved her as a dear friend, it would never be the same kind of soul deep bond I had with Sherlock, but being different didn't make it worse. She was a wonderful woman and I felt that I could trust her and enjoy her company. If we were to have kids, she would be an ideal mother.
But there would still be times when I would want to visit Sherlock, or come for a stay at the factory. It wouldn't be often, I'd grown used to being away, but even though decades had passed since I first came to the factory, I had never been able to completely forget it.
I'd given up trying. Mary at least didn't seem too off-put, as I showed her around. She enjoyed the quiet of the candy meadow, and many a morning when I woke up, she'd already abandoned our shared to go, read by the waterfall.
The factory seemed to like her as well. She had at least avoided doing anything bad to her. Even when she wandered around on her own. More and more often I found myself pulling the ring box out of my pocket and staring at it, thinking about ways to propose, but nothing seemed quite right. No matter how much I wanted to be engaged to Mary before we left the Factory.
The day before we were set to leave, I still hadn't managed to propose.
That morning when I got up, Mary was gone as usual, but unlike usual I wasn't alone in the room.
Sherlock had somehow managed to sneak in while I was asleep. "You know I'm pretty sure that you're not supposed to be here."
"Why haven't you proposed yet?"
I tossed the blanket off and headed for the bathroom, not bothering to feel embarrassed about Sherlock seeing me in just my briefs. "I'm been busy."
He snorted, and when I glanced out of the crack between the bathroom door and the door jam, I saw him sprawled out in the chair with his fingers steepled in front of him. I left him to his ponderings.
When I got back out of the bathroom the ring box was missing. It didn't take a genius of Sherlocks' caliber to figure out where it had gone.
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So I wasn't all that surprised when it showed up next to my plate that night. Or when a violin wielding Sherlock entered the dinning room and began to play a romantic tune.
Though I did manage to feel shocked when Willy and Mycroft showed up in traditional 'watering' penguin suits. I raised an eyebrow at Mycroft, asking him how he'd managed to get dragged into this craziness. The heated look he gave Willy gave me a much more detailed answer than I needed. Though it didn't really surprise me that the two of them were into role-playing.
Carefully not meeting Willy's eyes, since I was pretty sure I'd blush hard enough to combust, I cleared my voice and stood up. Strode over to Mary's chair and fell to one knee. "Mary Morstan will you marry me?"
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Epilogue
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Despite only being five years old, my son, Sherlock, took after his namesake to a frightening extent. Right down to the fake innocent look he loved to use against me.
Which he was doing now, in an attempt to get out of having to go to bed so early. "Just one more story Dad? Please? I want to hear about Sherlock and his amazing Chocolate Factory.
I sighed, but settled myself onto the bed beside him. I was completely helpless against that look. "Grandpa Charlie's funeral was held on a bitingly cold day."